Closer to the Heart

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Seems like Spring ain’t never gonna come,” Bailiff Creed said, blowing on his cider before taking a sip.

  “Seems like it’s comin’ too soon, iff’n ye ast me,” Mags replied. “King wants me an’ Amily leg-shackled after Spring Fair.” He said this with a sigh, though inwardly he was chuckling. There was no time like the present to get the rumor-mill going. The less the general public knew about how things really stood between him and Amily, the better.

  “Criminy! No more tom-cattin’ ’bout fer you, me lad!” said the bailiff (who was, of course, married; the King encouraged marriage among the Watch and those of the Guard who were posted within the city as he felt it encouraged stability). Creed laughed, not unkindly. “Not thet I ever heerd all that much ’bout you kickin’ up yer heels.”

  Because I am very careful that my visits to my eyes and ears at the brothels are done by Harkon or some other rake-hell. “Nah, an’ truth is, it ain’t the bein’ married, it’s the mort’ve fuss an’ feather of gettin’ married I ain’t lookin’ forrard to,” Mags replied mournfully. “On’y good thing ’bout it is, I’m orphant, an’ Amily’s on’y got her Pa, so at least we ain’t got two Mamas fightin’ over weddin’ thins.”

  “But she’ll have a mort’ve friends makin’ hay over this, you mark my words,” Creed replied. “You’re in for it, m’lad. Just smile an’ nod an’ say ever’thin’ looks bootiful. An’ if it’s costly, make sure th’ King’s a-payin’ for it.” And at that moment, the Court began to fill up, which meant they both had to be on best behavior.

  The first several cases were either quite clear-cut (the Watch having caught someone in the act of theft or mayhem)—or boring (quarrels between neighbors that had gotten to the point of being brought before the Court).

  Then something came up that made both Mags and Creed sit up and start paying attention.

  The first hint that matters were out of the ordinary was that a parade of five people trudged into the courtroom and took seats on the witness bench.

  Then an enormous man was brought into the dock in irons that looked like dainty bracelets on his massive wrists. He was incredibly muscular, with muscles like a stonecutter or a blacksmith, taller than both the Watch that were with him, coarse features and a bald pate. And yet, the man’s expression and body language were that of a terrified child.

  The man’s accuser came into the Court, and Mags took an instant dislike to him. Mags could read both his body language and his surface thoughts, and what he read proclaimed this “Cobber Pellen” to be a bully and a liar. He looked as if he was someone who was accustomed to take what he wanted from those who were weaker than he was. Once he had been muscular, but now he was going to fat, with a round head and features that could have been considered handsome, except for the petulance of the mouth and the ugly glitter of his eyes. Both accuser and accused were positioned in front of the judge, and the accuser was the first to speak, according to the rules.

  “This animal attacked me without no reason yer Honor!” Pellen proclaimed. “It shoulda never been ’llowed on the streets! It shoulda been locked up years agone! It’s dangerous! It nearly broke my arm!”

  All the while Pellen was proclaiming how “dangerous” the huge fellow was, all the man did was cower—which was a strange thing to see from someone who looked as if he earned his living by throwing rowdies out of taverns. But all that Mags could sense was fear . . . fear, and confusion.

  “And have you any witnesses?” the judge began, when he was interrupted by a shout from a ragged young woman who pushed her way into the court. Mags didn’t get more than an impression of a wild mop of curly brown hair, a whirlwind of ragged skirts and shawls, and clenched fists, before she was already at the front of the courtroom.

  “Cobber Pellen’s a damn liar!” the woman shouted, and launched herself at him as if she was going to tear him to pieces with her bare hands. And the court erupted into chaos, with the Watch intervening between them, Cobber Pellen shouting one thing, the young woman shouting another, the five on the witness bench making a hasty exit from the room, and the bailiff trying to subdue Cobber as one of the Watch tried to subdue the woman.

  Mags considered wading in himself, but decided instead to keep an eye on the accused.

  Who was huddling in the corner, looking as if he was going to cry at any moment. There was something very odd going on here. The surface thoughts of the poor fellow were in chaos, and it was as if every single thought had to fight its way through treacle to come to the surface. It took Mags a moment to figure what was going on, and by then the bailiff and the Watch had separated the combatants and put them on opposite sides of the courtroom.

  The judge looked on with a neutral expression, but then, he was used to eruptions in the courtroom. This was not a neighborhood where people came meekly into the court and calmly dealt with their side of an issue. It was only the first time this week that a brawl had interrupted things here, and there were still four days to go before the week was over.

  By that point, Mags had gone from confusion to pity, because it was clear that the accused man was not at all right in the head. Whether he was born that way, or had been injured, he was, frankly, not fit to stand trial. But before he could intervene, the judge had leveled his gaze on Pellen.

  “Cobber Pellen,” the judge said. “Where are your witnesses to this so-called attack?” The judge raised an eyebrow. “Because frankly, right now the man you say tried to harm you is acting more like the one who’s been beaten rather than the one doing the beating.”

  Pellen looked frantically around the courtroom, but the people he had been counting on to back up his story had fled. :He probably didn’t pay them enough,: Dallen observed cynically. Mags was inclined to agree. He wasn’t sure what Cobber Pellen’s scheme was, but he rather doubted that matters were as Pellen had stated.

  “I had witnesses!” Pellen blurted.

  “Who don’t seem to be in my courtroom,” the judge pointed out. “But this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been in my courtroom, now, would it, Cobber Pellen?” The judge leaned over his desk and fixed Pellen with a stare. “This time, however, I’ve got a way to get to the bottom of things.” He raised his voice. “Herald Mags!”

  Mags got up and marched to the front of the courtroom, and bowed his head slightly. “Yer Honor?” he said.

  “This gentleman claims this other fellow attacked him. This young lady claims he’s a liar. And the alleged attacker looks to be in no condition to be questioned. Can you clear things up?”

  Mags chuckled and cracked his knuckles. “I’d be happy to, yer Honor.” He nodded to the bailiff. “Master Creed, would ye care to escort th’ gennelmun t’the witness box?”

  Cobber Pellen went red, then white. “That ain’t how it’s s’posed t’go!” he protested.

  The judge sat back in his chair, and Mags got the distinct impression that he was very much amused indeed. “In fact, Cobber, once a Herald takes over the proceedings, they go however the Herald wishes them to go. I suggest you get into the witness box. I wouldn’t want the bailiff to have to exert himself.”

  Pellen was quick to take the hint, and got into the witness box, grumbling under his breath. The judge let him stew for a moment, then waved a hand at Mags. “Herald Mags, if you would be so kind as to set the Truth Spell on Cobber Pellen, I would be much obliged.”

  Mags bowed a little, and did as he had been requested. Setting the Truth Spell in a courtroom, where things were under control and there were plenty of armed helpers around was nowhere near as fraught with hazard as was setting it in an uncontrolled situation. It didn’t take him long at all before there was a bright blue glow about Pellen, visible to everyone in the courtroom. Except Pellen. And every time he lied, that glow would vanish.

  “All right, Cobber,” said the judge. “Let’s hear your story.”

  That was when something Mags had never see
n before in his life happened. “It’s like this, yer Honor,” Pellen said . . . and the glow vanished.

  Mags was so startled he quickly double-checked himself—but the spell was still in effect. It was just that every word coming out of the man’s mouth was a lie. This was astonishing. When faced with the prospect of being under the Truth Spell, most people at least tried to weasel their way around the truth. Not Cobber Pellen. Mags could scarcely believe such audacity, and from the look of things, the bailiff, the Watch and the Guards present were all equally flummoxed.

  The judge, however, did not turn a hair. In fact, he managed to keep his face completely expressionless. “That will do, Cobber,” he said, and the bailiff took that as his cue to escort Pellen back to the benches. The judge turned his attention to the young woman, who had only gotten more furious with every word Cobber spoke. “Now, young lady, who would you be?”

  “Linden Pardorry, yer Honor,” she got out from between clenched teeth. “An’—”

  The judge held up his hand. “It is clear that you have a great deal you want to tell the Court about this story. Herald Mags, are you inclined to let her speak her piece?”

  “So long’s she does it under Truth Spell, jist like Pellen, yer Honor,” said Mags agreeably. The judge nodded and gestured to the young woman to take her place in the witness box.

  As she turned to face him and the rest of the courtroom, Mags finally got a good look at her.

  The first thing that anyone would notice was her dark brown hair. There was . . . quite a lot of it, unbelievably wild and curly, and down to her waist. It appeared she had tried to confine it with a scarf and a threadbare ribbon or two, but it was not to be tamed. Like most people in this neighborhood, in weather this cold she had on many layers of clothing, which muffled her up somewhat. She had probably put on every stitch she owned. Nevertheless, her figure was anything but bulky under the layers of skirts and shawls. Her face was narrow and her features angular, and right now her green eyes were ablaze with fury. So were her surface thoughts. Mags figured he had better get things in motion immediately; she looked ready to burst with the need to speak, and Mags rushed through the Truth Spell, setting it to glow in a blue aura all around her.

  “All right, young woman,” the judge said, calmly. “Let’s hear what you have to say about this case.”

  “Tuck may not be right i’ th’ head, but he been my frien’ all m’life, an he niver hurt a soul!” she burst out. “It ain’t in ’im! But that Cobber, ever since ’e moved t’ Cabbage Row, all ’e done was torment Tuck! All th’ live-long day, ’tis one mean trick arter another! An’ Tuck niver said nor done a thin’ ’bout it, niver raised so much as a finner t’defend hisself!!”

  The blue glow remained strong and steady with every word she spoke. The surface thoughts Mags skimmed from her matched her words, under a wash of fiery anger. Mags was actually quite impressed with her self-control; most people who were as angry as Linden was would be sitting on Pellen’s chest with a knife to his throat by now.

  And Cobber Pellen was beginning to look very uneasy. Clearly matters were not going as he had planned, and he had finally figured that out. Evidently he was not terribly bright.

  She stuck out an accusing thumb at Pellen. “That Cobber, ’e wanted Tuck’s liddle shed what he got from his Ma, an’ ’e wanted Tuck gone. ’E’s been plaguing the life outa ’im; not jist yellin’ an name-callin’, but dirty tricks an’ ’urtin’ ’im! Bin goin’ on since afore Midwinter, it ’as! An’ Tuck, ’e just took it. ’Til Cobber come arter me, t’day.”

  She peeled up her shawls and sleeves, and showed black and blue marks all over her arm. “’E figgered on makin’ me whoore fer ’im,” she spat. “’E ambuscaded me an’ grabbed me an’ I fought ’im an’ ’ollered, an’ thet’s when Tuck come a-runnin’. Tuck mighta put up with bein’ bullied, but he ain’t never let anyone bully ’is friends.”

  The girl was ablaze with anger now, and it was a good thing she had no Gifts, or Cobber Pellen would surely have been dead by now. She’d have killed him with the force of her mind alone. The rest of the people in the courtroom were absolutely riveted by the performance—the story itself was ordinary enough in this part of Haven, but Linden . . . Linden was utterly astonishing.

  “An’ even then, Tuck bare touched ’im! Tuck jist pulls Cobber offa me, ’olds ’im up by th’ arm, an’ gives ’im a shake till ’is teeth rattle, and throws ’im inter th’ wall, then comes t’make sure I be all right. Next thin’ I know, Cobber’s hollerin’ fer the Watch an’ actin’ like ’e’s ’bout beat t’death, the friggin coward.” She shook her clenched fist at Cobber, who was looking frantically all about himself for a means of escape.

  But there was no escape; he was surrounded by two men of the Watch and one of the Guard, all of them eyeing him with extreme disfavor. It was clear that Linden had won all of them over.

  Even the judge.

  :Nonsense, it was the Truth Spell,: Dallen pointed out.

  And in all that time, Linden’s Truth Spell aura had kept blazing a bright blue for everyone in the courtroom to see.

  “Bailiff,” the judge said, lazily. “The Truth Spell has told the tale. Cobber Pellen did not utter a single word of truth and we are all witnesses to that.

  “I’d like you to place Cobber Pellen under arrest. If that suits you, Herald Mags?”

  “Suits me jest fine, yer Honor,” Mags replied. “I kin think of ’bout a handful of laws he’s broke, startin’ with makin’ false accusations an’ lyin’ t’the Court an’ yer Honor.”

  Bailiff Creed had happily taken the irons off the big man called “Tuck,” and now just as happily was slapping them on Cobber Pellen.

  “Oh I can think of a great many more, Herald Mags. For instance, there is nothing illegal about a lady deciding to peddle her wares, as it were. And there is nothing illegal about her doing so under the auspices of someone else. But it is highly illegal to attempt to force a lady into such a life against her will. And there is the assault charge on her as well—” the judge turned from Mags to Linden. “May I assume you wish to press as many charges against Cobber Pellen as you are entitled to, Linden Pardorry?”

  She had shaken her sleeve and her shawls back down over her bruised arm, and looked up at the judge. “Yessir,” she said forthrightly. “Thenkee kindly sir. I ain’t gonna look down on some’un thet whoores, it’s a ’onest livin’ fer them as is ’onest ’bout it, but I ain’t no whoore m’self. I pick up stuff, belike, an’ take it t’Tuck, an’ ’e makes likely trinkets an’ I sells ’em.” As Mags removed the Truth Spell from her, and Cobber was “escorted” out of the courtroom to the gaol, she lost some of her anger. “’E’s a dab worker wi’ ’is ’ands, milord. ’e ain’t stupid. ’e ain’t right i’ head, but ’e ain’t stupid, ’e knows right from wrong, an’ ’e’s a magician at makin’. Ye’d marvel t’see what ’e kin make outa a liddle bit’ve nothin’.”

  Tuck was still shivering in the corner, and Linden made an abortive move to go to him. The judge stopped her with a word. “I should like you to come with me, Linden Pardorry, and we’ll find as many things to charge Cobber Pellen with as the two of us can prize up from your memory. And meanwhile—”

  “I’ll take charge’ve Tuck, yer Honor,” Mags said immediately.

  “And so, since there is nothing but driblets of civil suits to hear, I adjourn the court.” Bailiff Creed returned at just that moment, and the judge turned to him. “In the interest of making sure no one has to wait until tomorrow for justice, would you kindly get Judge Madows from his chamber and ask him to hear the rest of the cases?”

  “Right away, yer Honor,” Creed replied, and took his truncheon and knocked it three times on the nearest bench. “All rise fer the honorable Judge Bryon!”

  Everyone in the courtroom rose, and the judge offered Linden his arm quite as if she was a highborn lady. She took it with great di
gnity and the two of them left the courtroom, leaving Creed to fetch the second judge—and Mags to handle the terrified giant.

  It actually didn’t take Mags very long to calm Tuck down, once the poor fellow understood he was not in any trouble, and that Linden would be back to fetch him as soon as she was able. Mags sent a runner—one of his own boys from Aunty Minda’s place—out after some cheap sweets, figuring that someone as childlike as Tuck appeared to be would be both pacified and comforted by the unexpected treat. The ploy worked as well as Mags could have hoped. By the time the judge was through with Linden and she came looking for them in the hallway, Tuck was full of spicebread with nuts, and licking the last crumbs from his fingers. He looked up expectantly at the sound of Linden’s footsteps, and beamed at her when he saw her.

  “’as ’e been any trouble, Herald, Milord?” Linden asked anxiously.

  Mags chuckled. “Ain’t bin none at all,” he assured her. “But ye got me curiosity a-goin’. I fancy goin’ alongside’ve ye, an’ seein’ the bits an’ bobs Tuck kin make.”

  To his slight surprise, Linden frowned a little. “’Tain’t jist bits an’ bobs, Herald,” she corrected. “Ye tell ’im whatcher want, though it may take some long ’splainin’ to ’im; once ’e gits it, an’ ye give ’im what ’e needs, he kin make it. I tol’ ye, ’a bain’t stupid. ’is ’ead jest don’ work like ourn.”

  Mags kept his skepticism to himself. It would be more than enough if the addle-witted fellow could make some pretty trinkets with the right supplies; he could see to it that Tuck never ran short of what he needed, and make sure the results went somewhere they would fetch what they were worth. “Then you an’ ’im could be some use t’me,” was all he said. “I’d admire t’see what Tuck kin do.”

  Within half a candlemark, he had to completely revise his assumptions.

  The “shed” that Tuck owned turned out to be a building that had once been a small stable, built to hold four animals. It served Tuck as living and working quarters, and what he had done inside those four plain walls was astonishing. This was clearly the work of years.